


Night Horse

by let_love_run_red



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Gen, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_love_run_red/pseuds/let_love_run_red





	Night Horse

You wiped down the counter of the bar, glancing around at the crowds that had been slowly growing. Ever since you’d opened your own bar in the center of town crowds had been flocking to the bar. Sure the Duck Tape was good, but Night Horse was better. You had a foot in both the city life and country life, meaning you knew exactly how they made the high end New York drinks having once worked there. You could say proudly you were slowly driving all the competition out, and you loved it.

You hadn’t met the owner of the Duck Tape yet, but from what your best customer told you he was an ass. Max had showed up driving one of his friends car one day with a split lip. When you’d asked him what happened, Max had explained it all with hurt in his eyes. How the man had firebombed his SUV without a care, how his brother had slammed his face into the bar top, all you could say was the Logan’s weren’t viewed as welcome in the Night Horse.

“Hey (y/n), there’s someone here who wants to see you.” You heard Joe call from the kitchen. He was leaning out the doorway looking suspiciously at the man who was leaning against the counter glaring daggers. If looks could kill, well the man wouldn’t be much better off with the way Max was looking at him. You wiped your hands on the towel hanging from your waist as you approached the man with a smile.

“What can I do ya for?” You asked, holding your hand out for him to shake. He took it firmly, squeezing just a bit too tight. You raised an eyebrow as the man released your hand. He tilted his head up, puffing out his chest slightly. You folded your arms across your chest and straightened your stance, matching the man’s glare with your own.

“I’d like to speak with you concerning your business.” The man said. His voice was low and gravely. His accent was thick like molasses and sounded just as sweet. You led him to your small office situated in the back of the bar. He followed, glancing at the decor covering the walls. Old metal band memorabilia covered the wooden slats with posters and signed guitars here and there.

There were also a few country singers scattered throughout, to match the occasional animal head you had mounted. You entered your office through the door that sat under the mounted grizzly head and the man paused to admire the animal.

“You shoot any a’ those?” He questioned as you sat down, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of the finest whiskey you could get in Boone County. You poured a little in each of the glasses before replacing the bottle in your drawer and offering the man one. He sat across from you and took it politely.

“No, my grandpa shot the bear. The rest I bought.” You said, swirling the liquid in the glass and eyeing the man. He looked down into the cup before setting it down on the desk. You raised your eyebrow.

“It isn’t polite to reject somebody’s offer of peace.” You said smoothly. The man looked down at you, challenging your words with his own.

“It ain’t polite to run someone’s livelihood into the ground.” He growled. You got a good look at his face for the first time, admiring the regal roman nose set above plump pink lips. The full black goatee on his perfectly off-centered jaw, the dark honey brown eyes under thick black brows and the long black hair that reached to his shoulders in waves. It seemed to dance when he moved his head to glance around the room.

You leaned back in your chair, placing your feet on the desk and crossing your ankles as you looked at your whiskey again. The man narrowed his eyes at your indifference, making a move to stand.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said calmly. By now you could figure well enough who he was. Clyde Logan, owner of the Duck Tape. If the way Max had glared at him wasn’t enough of a hint the prosthetic arm definitely was. Clyde stood out of his chair, placing his right hand on the desk and leaning forward to shove his nose in your face.

“I have a feeling you do _(y/n).”_ He growled. His breath smelled of mint and you had the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him. You held yourself back with a smirk and removed your feet, straightening up in your chair and placing your hand on his chest to push him back. He stood off your desk and pulled his shoulders back.

“Well Logan, I’m really not competition. If people truly enjoyed your little dive more than my bar then they would continue going there. But,” With this you stood and walked to your office door, pushing it open and gesturing to the crowds surrounding the pool tables, the band playing on the stage, the frantic bar staff struggling to keep up with orders. “as you can see they’re all here.” You said. Clyde pursed his lips together, clenching his fist and letting a huff of air our through his nose.

You gently patted his shoulder, pushing slightly to urge him out of your office. Instead he whirled around and pushed your door shut, pinning you against the wall with his body pressed against your own. You sucked in a breath, finding your lips were mere centimeters away from his own. His eyes burned with either anger or passion, your head was too fuzzy to tell the difference.

Clyde glanced down at your lips, suddenly realizing what he’d done and starting to lean off of you. You found yourself desperate to keep the contact, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him back to you, crashing his lips against your own. He kissed you feverishly as you dragged your down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as you went. You kissed your way down from his mouth to his chest.

You reached your hands up into his hair as you bit at his collarbones, leaving them covered in black and purple hickeys. Clyde let out a low groan, pressing himself against you. You could feel him through his jeans and smirked as you gave his hair a gentle tug, prompting him to lean his head back as you attacked his neck. He stumbled back and fell into the chair as you stood in front of him between his legs and dragged your nails down his chest. You leaned in to kiss him again when there was a knocking on the office door.

You and Clyde both snapped your heads up when the knob started turning and you bolted, pulling the door open just enough that you could see who had knocked. It was Joe. You gave a low growl, wishing you hadn’t been interrupted. You would have had Clyde begging on his knees if you’d just had a few more minutes. You looked up at the taller man as he wrung his hands together.

“What?” You snapped. Joe tried to peer around the door but you only closed it a little further. Joe looked down at you with a curious look.

“Bar staff’s pretty swamped, and Max won’t let anybody else make his drink.” Joe explained.

“Alright let me finish up with him and I’ll be right there.” Joe nodded and let you shut the door. You turned around to see Clyde watching you carefully as you sauntered back over to where he sat, leaning down so he could feel your warm breath tickle his cheeks as you spoke.

“Where were we?” You asked. Clyde’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to lean up to kiss you. You pulled your head back with a smirk as he fell back with a slight pout on his perfect swollen lips. You tugged his hair back once again and leaned in to press kisses just below his ear, reaching your other hand down and palming him through his jeans. He let out a gasp, his hands flying to your sides as he dug his fingers into your skin.

You suddenly stood straight, pulling your hands away from him and his hands off your sides. You straightened your shirt cuffs as you walked to your office door, opening the door and gesturing out into the main room. Clyde tilted his head slightly.

“We’re a little understaffed tonight so, why don’t you just go.” You said smoothly. Clyde began re-buttoning his shirt as he stood. He walked over to the door, glancing down at you as you followed him out of your office. His hair was a mess and the occasional hickey on his neck wouldn’t be dismiss-able by any means. You walked him to the main entrance before catching his forearm and standing on your toes to whisper into his ear.

“Maybe we can finish that meeting some other time.”


End file.
